


Good Humor

by EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, Forced Cohabitation, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash/pseuds/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash
Summary: Captain Boomerang steals an ice cream truck and ends up with a guest for the weekend





	1. Ice Cream Party

All day I had to deal with rude, grabby children with sticky hands. But he was the ultimate version of that. Though he was older than me, he acted worse than half the children I ever had to serve. He thought whatever he touched was his and that everyone would go along with it.

I hated my job. It consisted of long days trapped in a metal box as it baked in the sun, traveling around the city in circles playing the same jingle on repeat so as to attract customers. Customers who tended to be horrid children demanding sugar. I could barely take it anymore, every day would end with my arms coated up to my pits in sticky chocolate and me completely and utterly burnt out.

This job was supposed to help me build character, at least that had been part of the argument that had convinced my father to force to look for work. No longer would I be permitted to be a freeloader living under their roof, I needed job for the summer before my last semesters. I mean, it’s not like my step sisters lived at home rent free mooching every cent they could, but hey, that’s obviously not my place to comment.

I hated that job. I hated that summer and everything that happened.

Just trust me, don’t ever become an ice cream man.

Of course as any story starts, I wasn’t expecting something to happen. It was ten minutes to the end of my shift and I had pulled into a quiet alley which had proven on many previous occasions to be a great place to hide undisturbed. I left the truck idling, keeping the battery running for the freezers as I curled up behind them, hiding in the furthest reaches of the truck.

I put my headphones in and packed a bowl as I watched the music video on the screen. I’m not sure why but I’ve always found the Salmon Dance relaxing. I smiled slightly, inhaling the smoke as I watched the fish swim across the screen, bobbing my head along to the rhythm. These small smoke breaks were the only time I really got a chance to escape, just chilling with the cooler listening to music. I actually felt like I was able to relax a little. That was until the truck jerked forward, the sudden momentum causing the back of my head to bash against the fridge I was leaning against, before the vehicle switched into reverse, throwing my face into the rear wall.

I gripped my nose, trying to stand up in the moving vehicle. I didn’t know who was driving but they obviously weren’t experienced operating an ice cream truck. I stumbled from side to side, moving down the small aisle toward the door to the truck’s cab.

I fell into the passenger seat as the truck whipped around a corner, “What the fuck!” I yelled clutching my bloody nose.

In the driver seat was a strange man, spinning the steering wheel from side to side. I didn’t need to see the speedometer to know he was pushing it as fast as it could go. He looked over noticing me in my blood spattered uniform for the first time.

“Who the fuck are you?” He barked, his gaze lingering on me when I’d rather it was on the road. Actually, I’d rather he wasn’t in my truck at all.

“I’m the fucking ice cream man whose truck you’re fucking stealing!” I shouted at him over the sound of the boxes tumbling in the back. I knew that all the cones were shattered by now. I was gunna be in so much trouble with my boss. I was fired for sure.

“Oy, fuck, yeh nearly made me shat meself,” he commented angrily as his head moved between looking at me and the road.

“What!?” I shouted back bracing myself against the momentum of that truck as he spun the wheel erratically. I looked toward the dash, at the small monitor that was flashing the red warning about going out of my designated course, “This truck is tracked by GPS you know,” I yelled at him, “They already know something’s up!”

When I finally looked around I noticed where we where. We were on Commercial street. Covered in fish markets and shipyards, it was the closest street to the water on the west shore of the Gotham River.

The truck was barreling past docks directly towards my favorite of the various fish markets. I watched the many long wooden piers that jutted out perpendicular to us into the water, as they flashed by the windows. My knuckles had gone white as I gripped the edge of the seat, watching the fog covered river. I could see no options beside crashing into a bunch of people or into the water and either way I was dead.

At the last moment he cranked the wheel to the left. The vehicle was thrown sideways, barely balanced on two wheels as it made the sharp turn. I was so frozen with fear I could hardly process what was going on. At first I worried we were driving down a pier, one that would eventually end, but as we moved further I realize it was a bridge. An ancient wooden bridge that had been out of commision for decades. It was probably half rotted and could barely support itself, let alone us. I continued to panic, just waiting for the wood to give out underneath us as the metal box I was trapped in rumbled across the beams.

About three quarters of the way across the structure, the stranger in the driver’s seat did the unthinkable and turned to the right, sending the front of the truck through the wooden barrier on the edge. 

I inadvertantly screamed in terror as the water below us became my only view through the windshield. I had no idea what to do, I was in complete panic and certain I was going to die because of a job I hated. I was going to be a casualty of Gotham’s crime problem. Another statistic showing how the corrupt system had cost another citizen their life and I bet it wouldn’t even make a difference to anyone.

There was a painfully tight grip around my upper arm as I was yanked out of my seat towards the back of the truck. The stranger pulled me over the scattered boxes and past the coolers through the rear exit. He jumped with ease onto the old wooden bridge but I fell forward, face planting next to him.

As fast as I could, I rolled over onto my ass and pushed myself away from him. The truck was balancing over the edge of the bridge, the axle underneath caught just on the edge of the last board. The sight would’ve been fascinating to see if I was at all interested in physics and not scared shitless at the time.

The man stood with his back to me, facing towards the truck. Holding a black duffle bag over his shoulder as he lifted his foot and kicked the bumper. He swore loudly as he stomped on the truck. It seemed like he was acting more out of frustration than an attempt at problem solving because when the truck finally did begin to tilt, the metal groaning as it fell forwards off the beam, he jumped back in surprise, ending up on the ground next to me.

We both climbed to our knees and looked over the edge as the butt of the truck sunk under the water. There were bubbles for a few minutes and a bunch of ice cream bars floated to the surface but after a short while there was no sign of the truck. Well, besides the giant fucking hole in the side of the bridge.

He briskly stood to his feet, grabbing both the duffel bag and my arm.

“Com’on,” he commanded pulling me up next to him. I tried to fight back and managed to release myself from his grip. It was a foggy night, and though I had never been on this bridge which I currently could not see either end of, I knew what lay back where we came from. As for the far end of the bridge, I was pretty sure where that lead to and I knew I did not want to go there.

“No! I’m not going that way,” I shouted to him, rubbing my arm where he’d been grabbing me, I knew it was going to bruise. I turned around to head back. The guys at the fish market knew me and I’d bet they’d let me use the phone. I was sure of it.

The man grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm around, forcing me to stand on the very edge of one of the broken beams above the water, “Yeh comin’ wit’ me, or yeh joinin’ ya truck,” He growled into my face. If he let go, I would’ve easily fallen backwards into the middle of the river. I was too scared to move. He took my silence as a sign of submission and pulled me back towards him. Keeping his grip on my arm tight, he continued down the ancient bridge through the thick fog, towards the worst part of Gotham, towards the Narrows.


	2. Dance Party

Splitting Gotham down the center is the originally named Gotham River. In the middle of the river, which is in the middle of the city, is an island. That Island is the Narrows. It is, without a doubt, the worst area in city. Mostly people blame the degenerate state of the Narrows on Arkham. The asylum’s campus takes up about a third of small landmass. The center of the facility, which is the original Arkham family’s mansion is about as old as the city itself.

To be honest though, this is Gotham we’re talking about. Most of the city is pretty unsafe, and I’ve known a bunch of kids who grew up in the Narrows but were nice people. What made the Narrows so notorious was it’s disconnected nature. Even though it was smack dab in the center of the city, no one went there unless it was completely unavoidable. I was a born and bred gothamite but in my twenty-three years, this was my first time setting foot in this neighborhood.

It looked really normal, despite being the most crime riddled neighborhood in the metro area. It was like any of the neighborhoods around town. Ok, yeah, it wasn’t crazy fancy like the oversized apartment buildings on the upper east bank and there weren’t big shady trees like out on broadway, I know every neighborhood is a little different, but this place looked so much like the rest of the city. Every bit of space had been used, the buildings were all pushed close together and on each corner was a bodega or deli. I didn’t know what I had expected the Narrows to look like, maybe some kind of war zone? But here it was, looking just like the rest of the city only with twice as high crime rates.

As I walked down the sidewalk I couldn’t help but stare at everything around me, the buildings and the people. The man, my gracious host, stayed one step behind me. He insisted I walk in front, to keep me in his line of vision. His hand rested at the nape of my neck with his fingers curled over my shoulder.

“Stop gawkin’,” he hissed into my ear, “Yeh look like a bloody tourist. Keep yeh head down,” he insisted, his grip on my neck tightening. I made a face to myself mocking him, very aware he couldn’t see, before flinching. I reached up to my nose, it was so swollen moving my face just a little made it hurt. I tried to wipe at the dried blood around my nostrils but they were still too sensitive.

He eventually turned me towards a set of granite steps that lead to the tallest building on the block. He then made me climb up every stair to the top floor. Contrary to what I said before, there are some subtle difference to the Narrows that set it out from the rest of the city. Such as no elevators and the fact that where were bars everywhere. Every window, every door, and just anywhere that could be an opening.

Looking down the hallway of the top floor I saw more of those wrought iron bars guarding each entrance. The man walked up to the nearest one and undid the padlock and chain that kept the gate shut. He then unlocked the front door and pushed me into the apartment.

“Welcome to me humble abode,” He stated finally taking his hand off my neck. We stood in the main room, which looked like it could’ve been a living room at one time, but was now covered in junk. Dropping the duffle bag on the floor, he flopped down on the couch and kicked his feet onto the coffee table while he clicked the remote to turn on the TV. A sports match lit up the screen as he burped and scratched at his facial hair.

I stood there completely dumbfounded before stomping across the room, to stand between him and the television.

“Yeh make a better door than a window, luv,” he commented as I stood in front of him.

“So that’s it, I’m just a hostage now?” I spat at him as I crossed my arms, balancing my weight to the side so my hip jutted out.

“Yeh ain’t a hostage,” He returned in an annoyed and condescending voice as he waved his hand in the air, “I’m just keepin’ yeh here so yeh can’t rat me out until I’ve hawked this shit and skipped town,” he explained as he leaned to the side, trying to see around me to the game.

“Ok I don’t have a dictionary on me, so I could be wrong, but that sounds a lot like fucking kidnapping someone!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, I was just so pissed at him, “I have a life you know! Who’s gunna take care of my cat!”

He just sat there with a bemused expression, smirking as he replied, “Dunno’ about yeh cat, but I can take care o’ yeh pussy.”

My face dropped as I watched the lecherous gleam in his eye. I’m sure now that he only said it to throw me off balance, getting me to shut up for a minute, but it wasn’t long before I had a response.

“So not only are you an idiot, you’re a pervert too? That’s wonderful,” I commented, exasperated as I rolled my eyes.

It was easy to be sarcastic and rude while he was slumped down on the couch and I stood above him, but once he got up, rising to his full height in front of me, I wanted to retreat. I stood face to face with his broad shoulders as he spoke, “This conversation is over, I’m goin’ te bed.” He voice was finalizing and serious. I gulped as I stood still in his shadow, making no response.

He eventually stepped away, walking across the room to a door.

“Fuck you,” I blurted out as he stood with his back to me. He turned, looking over his shoulder with that same stupid smirk.

“Any time luv, yeh just say the word,” He stated with a wink before slamming the door shut.

I absolutely hated him.

I was tempted to just run out the door and leave in that moment, but I remembered where we were. I was too scared to go out into the Narrows alone in the middle of the night. Instead I curled up and tried to sleep, delaying my escape until the morning.

He had a really weird couch. I think that was the first peculiarity I noticed about the apartment. There wasn’t anything inherently odd about it, beside that it looked like it belonged in my grandmother’s parlor. The upholstery was a threadbare maroon velvet and the back was decorated with ornately carved mahogany. While it was a pretty couch, it was awful for sleeping on.

Waking up I felt stiff and sore. The swelling on my nose was almost gone but it still ached. It had been the sound of his boots stomping around that pulled me from my restless slumber. I continued to lay there, motionless and feigning sleep as I listened to him grumbling to himself.

Once I heard the front door slam I shot up in my seat. Had he actually left? For how long? Was he going to bring food when he came back? I was really hungry by that point.

When I was sure he wasn’t coming right back I hopped up and looked for a way out. I checked every window but soon realized that even if I could open them, there still were iron bars blocking the way out. I checked the front door, which opened easily enough, but there was the iron gate, padlocked shut. I was beginning to question if this apartment was up to firecode.

Dejectedly, I let out a huff and decided to explore this box I was trapped in. The place wasn’t that big. The largest space being the living room which connected to the kitchen. There was a door leading to the bedroom which had a small ensuite bathroom. The space, as a whole, had a weird feel to it. Most of the junk that littered the floor seemed to be from my gracious host. Junk like beer cans, lifting weights, and posters of rugby teams, all very manly things. The furniture, on the other hand seemed much more feminine. The couch, bed frame, and wardrobe were all old, edwardian style pieces. If nothing else they looked like stuff someone had paid a lot of money for once upon a time, even though now it was all a little worse for wear.

I took my time looking through the bedroom. I swear it was just because I wanted to find something that had his name on it. Instead I found a change of clothes. Well, if you could call it that. I was just excited to have something other than my stained polyester uniform to wear. I set the bloodied portion of my top to soak in the sink while I pulled on a pair of very oversized sweatpants, yanking at the drawstring to keep them over my hips. I also found a plain white t-shirt which I thought would fit me fine, but realized once I had it on that it was very tight in the chest and belly. There were no other options for shirts so I hunted for a hoodie or something to cover up with. Looking deeper into the wardrobe I found an old kimono inspired silk dressing gown. I could not resist putting it on, it was just so elegant.

I spun around, playing in the robe, when something pink caught my eye. Though I was getting used to the juxtaposition of the contents of the apartment, this bit of fuchsia seem completely out of place. Pulling back the sheets on the bed, I revealed a small plush toy. Picking up the rose toned unicorn I looked into its bead eyes and said, “I guess you’re my new best friend,” before laughing to myself. I tucked the toy into the crook of my elbow and headed to see what was in the kitchen.

There was nothing in the kitchen. Well, nothing besides a bag of stale chips and a fuck ton of booze. I grabbed a mostly full bottle of Hennessey before returning to the living room.

After hunting under the mounds of garbage I was quite surprised to find a small vinyl collection with a seemingly pristine record player. I took a few more gulps of the sweet brown liquor as I thumbed through the cardboard record covers. While I doubted than any of these were purchased by my host, I still recognized none of them. They all seemed to predate my birth by a handful of years but there was one I found myself drawn to. The cover was simply an expressive portrait of a woman, but the label on the vinyl said ‘Chaka Khan’. Chugging down some more of the bottle, I put the record onto play.

I danced around aimlessly, shaking my hips with the beat as I continued to search the room. I was very excited to find a bong and lighter. While most of my possessions, like my cellphone, had sank to the bottom of the river, I always kept my weed tucked safely in my bra. After packing a bowl, I took a deep inhale from the shitty plastic bong and danced around to the music. That’s how I spent the rest of the day. It’s not like I had anything better to do. I hung out alone with the pink unicorn, switching between sipping at the bottle and bong, slowly moving further from the earth.

Every time the needle hit the paper in the center of the record, I would simply lift it back to the edge. Though I had never heard of Chaka Khan before today, I now knew all the words to her song 'I Feel For You’ and had even choreographed a whole dance along with it. When I finished the Henny I simply moved onto a different bottle.

I had no idea what time it was when he came home. It could’ve been three in the afternoon or three in the morning for all I knew. Actually no, it wasn’t 3 am, the sun was still out. I was just fucked up and dancing around enjoying myself.

“I feel for you-oo, I think I lo-ove you,” I sang to myself spinning around with the stuff toy and new bottle of limoncello tucked under my right arm while I held the bong and lighter in my hands. I was completely lost in my own world when I heard the needle scratch.

“What the fuck are yeh doing?” I heard him yell as I froze, my back still to him. Slowly, I turned around with a sheepish grin.

“Dancing?” I answered in a light tone, trying not to fall over as I stood still.

“Are yeh wearing me trackies?” He questioned as he looked me up and down.

“I needed something to wear while I washed my uniform,” I tried to explain. As he looked me over, his expression changed suddenly. I felt self conscious, assuming he was staring at my chest I shifted my arm to cover my front before he stepped forward to the couch his arm out.

“Give 'er 'ere.” He demanded. I followed his gaze to my arm and assumed he meant the booze. Without comment I handed the mostly empty bottle to him but he threw it to the side, “Not that ye dumb sheila. Give me Pinky.”

“Pinky?” I asked, my mouth curling into a smirk, “That’s the name you picked?” I held the toy up, hugging it close to my face, “Well now her name is The Good Queen Snugglepus the third, Duchess of Wuggle-Wumps Isle.” I enjoyed watching him get annoyed, the way his brow creased almost made him look attractive. Almost. Well, actually, if he just took a shower he wouldn’t look that bad at all.

I turned the toy’s head to my ear as I continued, “What’s that? You like the name I picked better?” Returning my attention back to him I noticed he wore that same bemused expression as he crossed his arms. This made me worry a little.

“Listen girly, yeh likely don’t want ta be rubbing Pinky on yeh face,” he began with a chuckle, “She’s been a great comfort to me on many a lonely night.” It took me a few seconds, but I eventually caught on.

“Oh my god!” I hollered as I looked at the toy. I had spent the whole day holding this thing. I spent whole day holding his cum rag.

“That’s disgusting!” I shouted, throwing the toy in his face, “You pervert!”

“I’m the pervert?” he shot back easily catching the toy, “Yeh the one going through me personal things!”

“Yeah but I don’t get off on children’s toys!” I returned, still grossed that I had been holding it for so long. He ignored me as he returned the plush to his bed. I sat down on the couch and reached to the nearest liquor bottle. Tipping it all the way back, I drank own the last of the dregs.

“So what, yeh just been hangin’ out getting pissed?” He ask, surprising me as he leaned over the back of the couch.

“Nuh-uh!” I shot back incredulously before I looked away and continued to mumble the rest of my answer, “…I’m also pretty stoned.”

He shook his head with a stupid grin as he turned to the kitchen. He returned shortly with a big bottle of Gin as he flung himself down onto the couch. He pointed the remote at the tv, resuming the game from last night which I only just now realized was prerecorded. He took two gulps from the bottle, grabbing it by the neck before holding it towards me.

I sat at the other end of the couch, curled up with my feet tucked underneath me. I faltered for a moment not realizing he was offering.

I took the bottle tipping it back as I held it with both hands, taking a drink. Please know that I would not have been able to down straight gin if I was not already drunk. There was a popping sound as I pulled the bottle from my lips and returned it to him, “Thanks,” I mumbled, “I was gunna pack another bowl,” I began as I gestured towards the water piece on the coffee table.

“Hold up,” He commented setting down the bottle as he leaned forward. Pushing the skirting of the couch aside he pulled out a mason jar full of weed, “Use this.”

“Fuck me,” I whispered to myself looking at was was easily half an ounce of like medical grade marijuana. “I like you a lot more than I did five minutes ago,” I commented as I twisted open the lid to the mason jar.

“Yeh hungry? I was gunna order pizza,” he asked ignoring my comments as he pulled out a tracfone. While in most cases if a guy gave me a jar of pot and offered to buy me a pizza he’d win my heart in a second, I found it kind of weird that my host had became amicable so quickly after I had been teasing him earlier. Earlier there had been a moment where he was genuinely pissed with me, I could see it in his eyes, but now it seemed like that didn’t even matter as long he got to watch rugby. This was the moment when I decided it was my mission to annoy him to his wits end.


	3. Pizza Party

“Pizza will be here in half hour,” he said after calling in the order. My host stood up and stretched, groaning slightly before he started to walk across the room, “Pay the boy when he knocks. I’m taking a shower.”

“How?” I snapped at him twisting in the seat so I knelt back words, looking towards him, “Any way I had of paying now resides in the bottom of the Gotham river. You know, from when you drove my truck off a bridge?”

He exhaled sharply before returning to the couch to grab the duffel bag from the day before. Holding it up he pulled out a wad of cash. I was in sheer awe of the amount of banknotes in front of me as he tugged out a single bill from the binding.

“Here,” he stated before return the stack to the bag, taking it with him as he walked to the bedroom door.

“What if he can’t break a hundred?” I asked quickly turning the green rectangle over in my hands trying to see if it was real.

“Tell ‘em to keep the change,” he stated, slamming the door behind himself.

If I had been more observant, and like, not drunk, I might’ve noticed that my host was troubled by something. I had no clue what bothered, and honestly, at that time I didn’t give a fuck about his feelings. It’s not like he cared about how I felt. I mean, he did literally kidnap me.

I resigned to watching the tv as I waited for the pizza. I didn’t know shit about rugby besides that it was the weird, violent cousin of football and soccer. Turns out it isn’t so bad to watch. Who doesn’t enjoy watching dudes in tiny shorts wrestle in the mud? Eventually there was a knock at the door and I climbed up to answer.

“Are you George?” the pimply kid asked as he stood in the hallway.

“Yes,” I replied in a flat voice as he passed me the cardboard box, “Here’s a hundred, keep the change,” I added, handing him the single bill and shutting the door abruptly.

I pulled out a slice before tossing the box to the coffee table, taking a bite as I flopped onto the couch. Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten in almost a whole day, but this pizza was delicious. After finishing my first slice I grabbed another. Then another …and maybe two or three more after that.

I was in a happy pizza coma, sipping at the cheap gin, feeling content as I watched the sports game. Of course my gracious host had to ruin the moment of bliss.

If you really want to get someone’s attention, be a totally buff dude and walk around in nothing but a towel.

While I had been entertained looking at the butts of the athletes on the screen, it was completely different having the real thing in front of me. I sat there slack jawed and wide eyed, staring at his adonis like physique as he stood with one hand gripping at the knot in the towel, the last drops of water pooling at his feet.

“Take yeh pants off,” He commanded, staring down at me.

“Wh-what?” I stammered, feeling like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. I felt a clenching sensation deep in my gut as I unconsciously crossed my legs a little tighter.

“Take yeh pants off,” he reiterated, “Now.” He did not look happy as he stood there, “They’re my trackies, if yeh don’t take ‘em off, I will,” he threatened.

I quickly caught on to the reason for his demands. He didn’t care about seeing me in less clothes, he just wanted more for himself. So I hopped up and tried to run away.

Unfortunately we were in a very small apartment. I tried to keep my balance as I hurried, stepping over the scattered piles of junk on the floor. He circled around the other side of the couch, cutting me off. I spun the other way, heading back as he reached out and wrapped his arm around my torso.

Even though I’m about half the size of him, I’m not exactly small. I’m average height and a little chubby but he trapped me against his chest and lifted me with one arm like I weighed nothing to him.

“Put me down!” I shouted slapping his forearm as I kicked and wiggled, trying to free myself from his grasp. I could feel his other hand as it moved around to my middle, reaching to tug the drawstrings loose.

“Quit moving around,” he growled in my ear as he tried to pull down the waistband to the sweats I wore. He gave up holding me and threw me face first on the couch, placing his palm flat between my shoulder blades. Using his full weight he pushed me into the cushion as he grabbed at my pants. I fumed, annoyed that he was able to pin me with one hand.

“You’re the worst,” I commented, my voice muffled by the cushion. I felt defeated as he yanked the cloth down. I bit my lip as his knuckles brush against my ass and down my legs. I tried to tell myself that I did not enjoy him manhandling me like this, but it definitely ignited an awkward fire within me.Of course there was no way I was going to let him know this.

“I should’ve thrown yeh in the river,” He grumbled more to himself than me as he shook out the pants, untangling the legs. Once he lifted his hand, releasing me, I sat up and crossed my arms giving him a sour look as he stood in front.

That’s when he dropped his towel.

“Oh my god!” I yelled reaching up to shield my eyes, “Have you no decency!”

“Sure I do,” I could hear his smirk as he spoke, “Yeh just a prude.”

“Am not!” I lowered my hands to find him standing there with pants on, and that stupid crooked smirk of his. “I’ll have you know I’ve seen plenty of penises,” I felt like a fool as I spoke. This was not something I should have to defend, especially to him, but the bottles of cognac and gin had insured that my filter was long gone.

“Yeah?” He asked as he flopped on to the couch next to me, “How many?” I was worried he actually expected an answer as he grabbed the nearest bottle of booze, taking a big swig before reaching for the pizza box.

Thankfully, once he opened the box the previous question was completely gone from his mind

“Ye ate the whole pizza?!” He roared, his head snapping to face me.

“I, uh, have to use the bathroom,” I mumbled, my head spinning slightly as I quickly stood up to cross the room.

I don’t know if I’ve made it clear to you how messy this space was. There were odds and ends scattered randomly across every inch the floor boards. This made navigating the clutter a mindful task. It was essential that you pay attention to where you were stepping.

I kept my eyes on my host as I moved, too scared to turn my back to him. Admittedly he was was right to be pissed, I had over indulged with the pizza. I began to turn around, my eyes still trained on him as I reached for the bedroom door. I stepped forward without mind and my foot collided with something very, very solid.

I yelped in pain, losing my balance and falling backwards hard onto my ass, which I knew would leave a bruise, “Oh god! It’s broken! My toe is broken!” I hollered as I clutched at my foot, tears streamed freely from my eyes. Ok, yeah, I know, I’m not good at dealing with pain.

“Shut ye trap, lemme look,” I heard the man grumble as he walked over to me. He grabbed my ankle yanking the appendage from my grasp. He inspected my foot as he held it with one hand while I sniffled. He raised his other hand and using his middle finger and thumb he flicked at my second toe.

“What the fuck!” I screamed at him as a shock of pain traveled from my toe up my leg, “You fucking sadist!”

“Good news, ye toe’s not broke,” He replied, ignoring my statement.

“Yeah? That’s how you tell?” I snapped at him, wiping at the tears on my cheek.

“Yeah, if ye toe was broke and I did that, ye would’ve punched me,” He explained, releasing my foot as he stood up, holding a hand out to me

“I don’t need a broken toe to want to punch you,” I grumbled as I begrudgingly took his hand, letting him help me to my feet, “How do you know so much about broken toes anyway?”

“Years of boxing, ye learn to deal with broken fingers,” He said, still clutching my hand, though I was righted. “Go pee,” he commented, slapping my ass through the silk dressing gown. He hit right where the bruise was. I huffed, hobbling two steps forward and grabbing the door handle.

“Thanks nurse George,” I shot over my shoulder as I crossed the threshold to the bedroom.

“What did yeh ju—,” he began before I slammed the door in his face, cutting him off.


	4. Slumber Party

Waking up everything hurt.

The worst was my foot. I could feel the dull throbbing as I laid there was my eyes closed. It matched the throbbing in my head. I groaned, clamping my hands over my eyelids as I rolled over in the bed, the sheeting pulling tight around me. I hissed as the cloth brushed against my toes, my eyes shooting open from the pain. I found myself face to face with her royal highness, Queen Snugglepuss.

“Oh gross,” I mumbled, pulling my face back. I sat up and looked around realizing I was curled up in bed sheets and not on the couch. Had I really slept here? Did he sleep here? Peeking under the sheets I found I was still wearing my underwear …and a vomit stained t-shirt.

“Oh groooss,” I reiterated to myself as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up right. I held the front of the shirt out at arm’s length as I gently stood up, hobbling to the bathroom. Once I had the door closed I pulled the cotton shirt over my head and tossed it to the side.

I really felt like I needed to wash up. Scanning the bathroom I found a towel that didn’t smell too bad. Leaning into the small shower I turned on the water. I could heard the pipes groan before a spray of cold water shot from the head. I finished undressing as the water warmed and stepped in.

I never liked showering away from home. Using someone else’s shower seemed so intrusive. I felt like a stranger in it, scared to touch anything. In this shower though, I was scared to touch anything for other reasons. How could a space for cleaning yourself be so dirty?

I rubbed the single bar of soap to gather the lather between my hands, afraid to put the actual bar on my body. I scrubbed at my pits and belly, balancing mostly on my right foot, keeping myself very close under the water. I rinsed quickly enough, eager to exit the small space.

Drying off with the towel I took account of my injuries. It went without saying that I was hung over by the constant pain in my head, and my toe was killing me, though I had a vague memory of him inspecting if it was broken. My right butt cheek was sporting a large bruise, the purple just starting to bloom under the skin. There was also a mark on my upper arm, the faint outline of his fingers when he’d pulled me from the truck. My nose was no longer swollen, but like every other bit of me, it too was bruise, this one a nice green and yellow. I poked at each bruise, wincing when it stung.

Now came the question of getting dressed. I could wear my uncomfortable and blood stained uniform, or the vomit coated t-shirt. Both of which were options I wanted to avoid. I kept the ratty towel wrapped around my middle as I stepped back into the bedroom. I examined the cluttered room, trying to find an option when something caught my eye.

Draped over the footboard to the bed was the dressing gown I’d found yesterday. I lifted it up, thinking it was a good temporary alternative to the musty towel, but as I held it closer another piece of cloth dropped from within it. I grabbed the satiny pink fabric from where it had spilled onto my feet.

It was a dress. Well no, it was more of a slip, meant to be worn under a dress. While the lace and satin were not the kind of aesthetic I’d pick, it looked like it would fit me. I dropped it over my head, shifting slightly as it fell down my sides. It was tight in my hips and around my bust, but I’m used to any clothes I try fitting me like that. I pulled the robe over my shoulders and moved towards the living room. I couldn’t help but wonder where the garment had come from. Had he left it out for me, or had I just never noticed it yesterday?

I peeked around the door, looking to see if I was actually home alone like I had assumed. The living room was completely still and dark, with a few rays of sunlight shining through the broken parts of the venetian blinds. I sighed in relief, letting my shoulders slump as I moved into the space.

Over by the couch was the bong and booze we’re we’d left them. The tv stood still, the screen blank. I noticed the VHS player on top and wonder if there was anything beside ‘100 Greatest Rugby Plays’ to watch. I turned, looking around the room with my hand on my hips.

Behind me I spotted his workout set up, a small bench with a barbell and scattered weights around it. I’m pretty sure that’s what I’d hit my toe on last night. Behind his collection of weighted metal was a bookshelf. I climbed over and sat down on the bench, resting my foot on a stack of old newspapers as I studied the bookshelf.

The shelf housed a large array of books. There was everything from The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass and the collected works of Shakespeare, to Tolstoy’s War and Peace and The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. My host didn’t really seem like the type to indulge in classic literature, but hey, who am I to judge? Looking through the varied selection, there was one book that caught my attention. Once I had a glimpse of the title all the painful memories of the age when I’d first read it came flooding back.

It’s been over a decade since I’d read the Judy Blume classic, Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret, but I recognized the blond girl in the striped dress on the cover instantly, like I’d only seen her yesterday. I took the thin paperback, also grabbing the works of Shakespeare, keeping 'A Midsummer’s Night Dream’ for my second option, and went to curl up on the couch.

I wiggled into a comfortable position, resigning to reading of the young girl’s religious conflict as a way to pass the day. It was like falling into a trance, letting the words on the page paint images in my mind. All I cared about was the story, and occasionally turning the page. At some point I drifted back to sleep, my head lolling backwards over the armrest.

I awoke some time later to my host slapping at my foot, though thankfully not the bruised one. I opened a single eye, glancing towards his blurry figure.

“Nelly, get up,” He stated as I began to stir. Though I was still in a sleepy stupor sitting up, what he said caught my attention.

“What did you call me?” I asked, rubbing my eye and sitting up right. He sat where my legs had been and twisted open the cap to the bottle of brown liquor.

“Nelly,” He replied simply taking a big swig from the bottle, “Said it was yeh name last night.”

“It’s ’Nili’,” I explained, emphasizing the vowel sounds, “And I don’t remember telling you that.”

“Do yeh remember anything from last night?” He returned, looking at me as he pulled a sandwich from a paper bag.

“No, not really,” I replied quietly, watching as he pulled wax paper back and took a big bite, “Then what’s your name, huh?” I challenged.

“Boomer,” He said simply, his mouth full of bread.

“Did you, uh, get me one?” I finally asked, my mouth was watering, watching him eat.

“No,” I could see him smirking as my face fell.

“What am I supposed to eat then?” I pressed, jabbing my finger into his shoulder.

“There’s some left over pizza,” he suggested. I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for the box on the coffee table. Opening it up I found… nothing. Right. I ate it all last night.

He had planned this. I spun around glaring at him, as he sat with that stupid grin. He continued to smile at me so I grabbed the bottle from his hand.

“So yeh like whiskey now?” He questioned in a teasing voice as I put the bottle to my lips and took a big drink. It taste fucking awful. I tried not to make a face as I looked back at him.

“Love it,” I knew after a few more drinks it wouldn’t be so bad, just had to pace myself, but it was awful right now. He lowered his hands as he laughed heartily at my suffering. I took my chance without thinking and shot forward, sinking my teeth into his sandwich while he was distracted.

I found myself in a bit of an awkward position. I had one hand on top of his hand, which held the sandwich, as it rested in his lap, my other hand resting on his thigh. In that split second I made a brash decision and looked up at Boomer from his sandwich. I tried to mimic the expression I’d give my ex while bowling him, as I violently tore the bread and deli meats apart with my teeth. The interaction had felt so slow and purposeful but was over in a split second.

I sat there chewing on the sandwich bit, keeping eye contact with him. He didn’t look scared, just wary as he studied my face.

“Ok I’ll order some takeout lata’,” He finally replied, being the first to break eye contact in our staring competition. I smiled inwardly at his submission as I picked up my book and stretched out, sitting sideways on the couch, so my feet rested against the side of his legs. I thumbed through the pages, trying to find where I had left off as Boomer clicked on the television, continuing to eat his sandwich.

“Where yeh get tha’?” He asked, eyeing the book I held.

“It’s yours,” I replied, looking up from the page, “Well, I found it here in your apartment.”

“Never seen it before,” He commented, plucking the paperback from my fingers.

“Hey don’t lose my page,” I requested, as he ignored me and closed the book to study the cover.

“Wha’s it about?” He asked turning the book in his hand, reading the back synopsis.

“Just a preteen girl questioning what religion she believes in,” I began, “The part I’m at, she’s at a sleepover playing games like seven minutes in heaven.”

“What?” He looked at me with his brow furrowed.

“What?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his confused expression, “Don’t you have slumber party games down under? Like Spin the bottle, truth or dare?”

“Heard of those, but not the heaven one,” he mumbled taking a bite and throwing the book at me.

“You just have to stand in a closet with someone for seven minutes. You’re supposed to make out with them,” I explained with a shrug, “It’s just a dumb game kids play. What did you do at slumber parties?”

“I never went ta one,” He let out a short laugh.

“You have now,” I joked, nudging him with my foot. He looked over, quirking his eyebrow at me, “This is almost a slumber party. Except, of course for the whole kidnapping me and holding me against my will part of it.”

“Yeah?” He started in a low voice, twisting so he faced me next to him, with his arm resting on the back of the couch, “Yeh saying you want ta make out?” He questioned, leaning over my legs, closer to my face.

I could feel my face flush as he hovered over me, “What? No!” I replied in a shaky voice looking away. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to keep him from moving closer, “Why would I ever want to kiss you?”

“Yeh wanted ta last night,” He smirked as my head spun back. I studied his face, everything from his gold tooth to the wrinkles on his forehead, looking to see if he was being real. I ran through the night in my mind, trying to recall, but I kept coming up blank. He could see the confusion on my face, “I could barely keep yeh off a me,” He spoke into my ear as his right hand moved to rest on my hip, rubbing his thumb across the satin. I cursed myself as I felt my stomach flip in reaction to the contact.

“You’re lying,” I tried to call his bluff. I know that drunk-Nili can be a bit, uh, carefree when it comes to displays of affections, but this was too much.

“Yeh right,” His expression broke and he looked like he was about to burst out laughing, “If anything had happened, yeh’d be limping from more than yeh toes,” he commented, slapping my hip before sitting up, back into his seat.

With a frustrated yell, I launched forward onto my knees and began slapping him with my book. “I hate you! I hate you!” I repeated, punctuating each pause with another smack.

Boomer was quick to grab at the novel, pulling it from my grasp and flinging it across the room. He then moved to take my wrists as I watched the paperback sail away. Pulling at my arm, he yanked me forward, twisting me so my back laid across his lap. I glared up at him from where I laid, trying to wriggle free.

I kept moving until I felt something. It was a just a little poke in the middle of my back, but I knew what it was as he held me in place across his legs, keeping my arms in a stress position. My eyes shot open as I caught on.

“Are you hard right now?” I shouted looking up at him.

He just grinned in response, laughing at me and my indignant attitude despite my vulnerable position. I could feel his free hand rest at the top of my belly, just under my breast. I used all my might to twist to the right, and off of his lap.

I knelt on the floor, glaring up at him as he just laughed at me. I stood up and without much thought, swung my hand across his face, my open palm making a loud smack as it collided with his cheek. He looked absolutely furious as he grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, back onto his lap.

I was splayed out, face down, across his legs. He held my left arm twisted across my back, keeping it in place and pinning me down by pressing his elbow between my shoulder blades.

“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling to move or at least look over my shoulder, but he used his weight to keep me in place. I could feel his dick poking my belly through his jeans as he leaned forward, moving the silk robe and slip to the side, exposing my bottom to the open air, “What are you doing?!”

“Yeh slap me, I slap you,” He stated as his moved his hand slowly up the back of my thighs, only slightly brushing my mound before coming to rest flat across my bottom, “Luv’ the black knickers, by the way,” he commented as he drew his arm back.

There was a loud smack of skin violently meeting skin as tears sprung from my eyes in response to the stinging pain.

“So yeh gon slap me again?” He asked, as he gently rubbed his hand across the red mark he had made, “Or should I continue?”

“I won’t-,” I started sniffing, “I won’t slap you again,” He released my arm as I finished. I scrambled to stand up, to get away from him. I rubbed at my bottom, already feeling a hand shaped welt starting to form.

“Good girl, there’s some aloe the the bathroom. That’ll help yeh tush,” he grunted, gesturing vaguely toward the door as he settled in, turning his attention to the tv. I wiped at my eyes and stormed out of the room.


	5. No Pants Party

I had been watching the kids in the alley for at least fifteen minutes by now. They had been collaborating on graffiti mural, each doing their own part. The whole thing was kind of ugly and it was obvious they had just picked up spray painting recently, but watching them joke and laugh, just enjoying being together with each other made me sigh with sadness.

I sat with my cheek in my hand, resting my elbow on the small radiator under the window next to the toilet. I sighed again as I sat there, peering through the bars of the window watching the boys down below. I had been sighing more than a protagonist to a Jane Austen novel.

The aloe had felt cold and stung slightly, but was ultimately soothing a moment after application. At the time I was sure I just had to pee, that’s all, but now after a while of sitting on the toilet I had to concede that the turmoil in my gut wasn’t caused by my bladder but something else. I didn’t want to admit to myself that he had made me feel something. I couldn’t accept the idea that it was because of him that I felt like this. I assumed it was just due to lack of contact. It’d been a month or two…ok more like three or four, since I’d last been physically intimate with someone. I just assumed my response was from pent up frustrations, and nothing to do with that pervert.

I limped from the bathroom into the bedroom. I was grateful I had initially locked the door behind myself. Each part of me was so sore, the only way I could be comfortable was laying on my stomach across the mattress.

As I laid there I tried not to think about being across his lap. Propped up on his thighs, and vulnerable to his choices had been awful and I didn’t enjoy it at all. The way it felt as he pushed me down, keeping me from moving, and the feeling of the warm trail his hands left as it traveled up the back of my thighs. All of it was terrible and I wasn’t imagining any of it in my mind. I was not thinking about the way he slowly rubbed my sore cheeks just after the slap, soothing the raw skin.

I couldn’t resist as I laid on the bed, face first into the sheets drenched with his sent. I snuck my hand between my belly and the bed, bending my fingers to grip and massage my mound through my underwear. I could feel the spot of wetness already soaking into the cloth. I pushed at my clit through the cotton and gasped. This is what I needed, if I could just get off I wouldn’t want him to touch me. I continued, unconsciously moving my leg outward, as I slipped my fingers past the hem of my panties, inhaling sharply at the direct contact with my clit. I moaned into the mattress, burying my face as I balled the sheets in my opposite hand. My hips jerked forward involuntarily as there was a loud banging to my right.

“Open the fuckin’ door,” My head shot up as he hollered.

“No!” I responded, trying to make my voice sound even and sure. He wasn’t having that. There was a new more forceful banging and crashing which caused the whole door to shake. The wood and metal around the knob splintered before giving out, allowing the door to swing wide open to reveal Boomer with his boot still poised to kick the lock again.

My mind was still hazy and my hand was in my pants as I made eye contact with him standing in the doorway, his raised foot dropping to the floor. I tried to pull my hand away quickly but he had already seen.

“What yeh doin’ in here then?” He questioned, his grin growing with each step he took towards the bed. I blushed looking away, unable to respond as I drew my knees closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I sat in the center of the bed, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he grabbed at a random silk scarf that was draped over the vanity mirror.

“Yeh touchin’ yeh self?” He pressed, turning to face me as he played with the cloth in his hand. I shook my head from side to side as I tried to draw back. He was faster than me as he grabbed at my right arm. Gripping my wrist he drew my hand up to his face, sniffing my fingers. “I think yeh have,” he chuckled, beginning to tie the cloth around my wrist.

I tried to move away from his reach as he went for my other hand. My attempts were futile as he took my left wrist and tied it close to the other. I jerked and pulled, trying to loosen the cloth and free myself but he laughed at my attempts.

He climbed on to the bed, hovering over me as he pulled my arms above my head, “Yeh think yeh can get off and I wouldn’t know?” I was stretched out below him, as he pulled my arms to the limit above my head, fastening the scarf to the head board. I was again at his mercy and I didn’t enjoy it. I promise you, I did not. I was not excited by the way his form covered me, how I felt engulfed by his shadow.

I did not like feeling like a piece of meat splayed out on a spit roast, simply there for his enjoyment. I did not shiver as he ran his hands down my arms and my sides to my thighs. It was not exciting as he pushed my legs apart, and positioned himself against my center. He held my hips so I stayed in place with my arms immobile and extended above my head. He ran his hands across the satin of the slip I wore, pushing the fabric up as he moved his palms across my torso, teasing at the underside of my breast. I bit at my lip to stifle a moan because I didn’t enjoy this at all. I kept my eyes clenched shut as I felt his hands moving to rest on my thighs.

“Want me to touch yeh?” He teased as his thumbs danced around my hips and the waistband to my underwear. I dug my teeth into my lip, turning into my shoulder, avoiding answering. Unfortunately this left my neck open and victim to his whims. I could feel his breath dancing across the flesh of my earlobe and neck as he leaned forward. His hand laid flat on my abdomen, his fingertips barely teasing at my folds.

“Do yeh want this?” he pressed, slipping his hand into my underwear. I whimpered as his broad fingers brushed past my clit and teased at my core. His thumb rested gently, hovering over my bud of nerves barely making contact, as his fingers did the same with my hole.

“If yeh want it,” He breathed into my ear, “Fuckin take it.”

I swallowed my pride and admitted to myself that I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted him so fucking bad. I push my hips down and gasped as his fingers thrusted back into me. He rubbed his thumb against my clit as he curled his fingers. Holding himself above me with his other arm, his mouth sucked at every inch of my neck. Moans unconsciously escaped past my lips as I rode his fingers. I could feel him grin against my skin in response to the sounds, pushing me closer and closer.

“I’m- I’m-,” I gasped into his ear, absently tugging on my restraints, trying to reach out to grab at him.

Suddenly all the pressure I had been feeling dissipated. The pressure on my clit, the pressure inside me, and the pressure of his body over mine was gone. I blinked, coming back to reality as I watched him standing up, laughing lightly to himself.

I fumed, yanking at the cloth around my wrists, trying to slip my hands free so I could go kill him. I struggled, watching as he turned into the bathroom. I was angled so I could just see his shoulder through the door frame as he stood over the toilet relieving himself. I wanted to yell at him but I was so off balance I couldn’t think of what to stay.

“Yeh can chuck a wobbly all yeh want,” he began, exiting the bathroom, adjusting his fly before gathering the duffle bag, “But I’ll be back in a few and I don’t want yeh touchin’ any more of me stuff. I’ll free yeh when I get back.” He stated with a smirk as he slung the black bag over his shoulder and left the bedroom. I yelled non descript profanities at his back as he walked out of the apartment.

I kicked and screamed. I hated him with every fiber of my being. I take back what I said, I didn’t want him to touch me. It wasn’t long until I had worn myself out. I laid there catching my breath and looking around the space.

At first I assumed he tied me up to be an asshole, but then I recalled his warning about touching his things. His actions seemed very intentional under the new light and I wondered if he had planned to tie me up while he was gone before he had caught me in bed.

I craned my neck back, examining my bindings. I shuffled, digging my heels into the mattress and pushing myself towards the headboard. I rolled over as I inched closer, the cloth bitting into my wrist as I moved. Eventually I was kneeling on the pillow, forearms twisted together as I leaned down bringing my face closer to the knot.

I looked for the tail end, knowing that would lead to the last part of the knot he had fastened and would be the first one I’d have to undo. He hadn’t used a formal knot which made it harder to find how to separate it at first, but this also meant that his haphazard work was not secure. Once I had begun to tease it apart with my teeth, the whole thing quickly came unraveled.

I rubbed at my wrists as I sat back, wincing slightly as the sore points on my bottom came in contact with the mattress. I wondered what he didn’t want me touch as I scanned the piles of clutter that took up every available inch of the space. If I was something the aussie wanted to hide, where would I be? I asked myself as I turned, looking over my shoulder. The light glanced off the tarnished silver mirror catching my eye.

The mirror was barely visible through the different scarfs slung over it, but underneath the oval piece of reflective glass was a small surface, like a desk designed for displaying makeup and jewelry. Currently all that rested on the dark mahogany was discarded clothing and objects. I stumbled over and pushed the jeans to the side, revealing a series of small drawers. The top drawer was wide, with two pairs of smaller drawers to either side.

I grabbed the small handle to the first one and tugged. It didn’t budge so I pulled a little harder and could hear the old wood squeak against itself, shifting for the first time in years. The mothball like sent of age hit me in the face as I peered inside. The contestants was a pretty normal selection of things you’d expect to find in the drawer of a vanity. Just some toiletries, hair brushes, spare buttons, and various knick knacks. I moved to the next drawer which yielded the same results. The third drawer was home to a large jewelry box.

I pulled out the wooden case and set it on the junk on top of the vanity table. The wood was smooth and even with no ornamentation or design to it. I could see the line that separated the lid from the rest, and gently lifted it upwards. The hinges made a bit of noise as I set the top back, examining the contents. The various pieces of metal glinted in the low light as I used my finger move them around. I lifted up a string of pearls, bring it to my neck. The clasp was easy enough to fasten, as I looked towards the mirror, admiring how opalescent shine of the pearls as they sat close to the base of my neck. I smiled lightly delighted by my reflection before getting distracted.

I pulled at the top most drawer. It was wide and shallow obviously meant for holding makeup and other smaller objects. Inside there was a whole array of plastic cases and brushes. I opened one teal case, revealing a small cake of blush. I rubbed my finger on the rouge before transferring it to my cheeks. Next I picked up a black tube, recognizing the logo of the crossed, silver C’s on the side. That was probably my first time holding a piece of such high end makeup. I mean, yeah, my stepmom had a bunch, but I couldn’t touch any of it.

I tugged at the cap, revealing a stick of deep red lipstick. Looking back on the moment I see now how it’s kinda gross, but I at least rubbed off the top layer of the stick with my middle finger before leaning towards the mirror and applying it to my lips. I didn’t know how old it was but I didn’t care at the time. The color didn’t look too bad on me either.

I was about to turn away and search else where when I noticed something small. On the inner left wall of the jewelry box was a miniscule metal nub sitting at the bottom up a small oval track. It was obvious that it was not meant to be something easy to spot. I reached forward pressing my thumb over it, and sliding it upwards. I could hear the mechanisms inside of the case clicking before a lower hidden drawer popped open slightly. I pulled gently at the varnished wood, carefully willing it out.

Opening the drawer to it’s extent I discovered a stack of envelopes tide into a bundle by a piece of lace ribbon. I lifted the pile and tugged on the loose ends, undoing the bow that bound the paper together. The front of the first letter bore the name Lenore at an address in The Narrows. I wondered if that was the address of this apartment. The envelope was covered in ‘airmail’ stamps and turning it over, I saw the return address. The letter was from Adelaide in Australia. I stood from my kneeling position as I lifted the lip of the envelope, climbing into bed as I freed the letter.

I got comfortable, laying on my side, tucking a pillow under my arm as I began to read. I found myself enthralled instantly. Reading the way Adelaide spoke to Lenore, the careful and loving language she used, I couldn’t help but fall into it. I continued from one letter to the next, excitedly reading every word. Each letter was from Adelaide to Lenore but sometimes Adelaide made mentions and responses in her writing that hinted to the fact that Lenore responded just as often. I wonder what she said back, and where those letters were.

Though it was obvious that they were in love it was never explicitly stated why they were separated. There were suggestions to the fact that Lenore was also originally from down under. It came up only in jokes about her being ‘an ozzy in Gotham.’ The subject of why she left was only alluded to once in a letter and it did not sound voluntarily. I eagerly moved from one correspondence to the next while still trying to be gentle with the contents of each.

The post date on the first letter was some point in the mid 80s. Adelaide referred vaguely to being pregnant at the time, making comments about the baby kicking and the difficulties of being with child and alone. She always refer to the unborn child as if it was as equally Lenore’s as it was hers.

‘Our son,’ she wrote, 'is a restless monster, he keeps me up all night kicking at my bladder. I know if you were next to me it’d help both of us rest more easily.’ My heart swelled at the idea of the pain behind her words. It seemed that they had a whole life planned together before Lenore had to leave.

The baby had been born right on schedule without complications. A bouncing baby boy she called Georgie, just as they had agreed. A photo was included with the letter, a snapshot of a woman grinning as she laid in a hospital bed hugging the tiny swaddled child despite her exhausted and disheveled appearance. Her hair was plastered against her sweaty forehead but she glowed with an the infectious excitement that was the love of a new mother. I wondered what was Lenore’s response? What did it feel like seeing a child who should be your’s only through words as he grew up half the world away?

Adelaide was diligent in reporting Georgie’s milestones. Reading her letters felt like reading a diary. She had written about everything. Every moment from the details of how Alice, the aborigine girl from down the road would look after him while Adelaide worked as a maid, to the the quiet moments in the middle of the night, when his cries would wake her. She described cradling the babe and cooing a soft song in such careful detail it was hard to not feel like I was there myself with her.

I was so absolutely engrossed in the letters I never even noticed the sound of the front door to the apartment opening.


	6. Slap Party

_Georgie was sent home from school for fighting again. I worry about him. He has trouble making friends, and spends a lot of time alone. He seems to love the neighbor’s dog, and thankfully John doesn’t mind them playing. John is so wonderful, he and his granddaughter Alice have alway been willing to look after Georgie when I work double shifts at the hospital._

_When we last spoke John suggested teaching Georgie about how to survive in the bush, basic wilderness skills. “Georgie’s on the cusp of becoming a man, there’s things he needs to learn a mother can’t teach him,” he explained. I am eternally grateful for his help but I wish you were here with us._

_Forever yours,_

_Adelaide._

I sighed as I set down the letter. I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of raising a child alone with such little support or resources. It was obvious that Georgie didn’t mean to be a trouble child, he was just doing his best but he didn’t fit in. I thought back to the various memories of my stepmother scolding me for not being exactly as she wanted me to be.

The funny thing is that as I read I had a slight recollection, I wasn’t sure at first if I was remembering something from a dream or from when I was drunk, but the more I pulled at the line to the memory the clearer it became. I could see in my mind’s eye as my gracious host stood before me, across the threshold to the living room. I was fuming, throbbing with pain, and wanted to jab him in the side with something pointy but all I had was a bit of information from the pizza boy.

I carefully returned the paper to its envelope before moving to the next one. I laid in the center of the bed, curled up with the whiskey bottle I had gathered at some point. Periodically sipping at the drink, I continued to read.

_19/7/97_

_My Dear, Lenore_

_It’s become difficult to get our son to stay inside since he returned from his first trip with John. He talks about it incessantly, describing every detail. Explaining how he learned to tell edible plants from poisonous ones and how to use the stars to find his way home. John gave him a small boomerang and Georgie is constantly in the yard throwing it around. You should’ve heard how loud he whooped when he first managed to catch it as it returned. I thought he was in danger at first_

“Din’ I tie yeh up?” an all too familiar male voice asked pulling my attention from the letter.

“Not my fault you can’t tie knots for shit,” I responded without hesitation before looking over my shoulder. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at me as he smoked something hand rolled. His expression was annoyed but light and I noticed he no longer had the black duffel bag. I sat up, making sure not to spill the booze as I moved, while he gripped the joint between his forefingers.

“Who’s Lenore?” I asked, tilting my head to the side watching his face drop at my words. His eyes quickly scanned the pile of letters around me as he scowled. His free hand shot forward reaching for the paper in my grasp. I shifted, pushing myself away, keeping out of his reach. He climbed over the wooden footboard without hesitation. I sprung to my feet as quickly as I could hopping on my good foot into the other room.

Boomer was quick to follow and more stable, being able to walk on both feet. I ducked under his arm as he swung it towards me, backing away slowly as he spun around. I tried to turn away hoping to get to the bathroom where I could lock the door between him and I, but his fingers wrapped around my wrist and plucked the letter from my grasp.

I yanked, pulled, and even kicked at his legs, trying to free myself from his clutches as he ignored my attempts and studied the letter. I huffed, annoyed at him before I had a great idea. I grabbed his forearm with my free hand and brought my face close to his fist before chomping down on his knuckles. I enjoyed the feeling of my teeth gripping at his skin and bit harder until he finally let go with a swear.

“Yeh bit me! The fuck is yer problem?” he asked as I stumbled backwards, catching my balance. He rubbed at his hand, there was no blood but some very pronounced teeth marks.

“You wouldn’t let me go!” I returned crossing my arms as he studied me.

“Stupid sheila,” he grumbled pushing past me to the bedroom. “Where’d you find these?” he asked gathering the various envelopes taking a moment to look over each one.

“They were in the jewelry box,” I explained with a dejected tone, gesturing to the vanity. He quickly took the stack of paper, shoving it back into the wooden case and slamming the top shut. Taking the box into his hands, he carefully placed it on top of the boudoir, very much out of my reach. I stood there pouting as I watched him.

“Thought I told yeh not to touch me stuff,” he stated as he turned to scowl at me. I tried to back away as he stepped closer, but my legs hit the hardwood of the bed’s footboard. He quickly moved to rest his hands on the lip of the board, caging me between his arms. I looked to the side, avoiding eye contact as he leaned over me.

“Thats a nice color on yeh,” he commented, holding my chin and turning my head to face him. I could smell the smoke from the joint he held with the same hands as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, keeping my arms tightly wrapped around my middle and my eyes averted. I could feel my body’s excitement at his proximity and gentle touches as I struggled to keep my knees from shaking at the thought of his rough fingers between my thighs.

“Yeh thinking about me?” he spoke in a low voice, leaning towards me as he ran his thumb across my bottom lip, smearing the rouge. “I can tell,” he continued, his warm breath tickling my ear. I could taste the blood in my mouth as I bit down harder on my inner cheek to keep from responding.

“Yer blushing,” he moved his hand over my chin, dragging his fingertips lightly down the column of my neck before placing his palm flat across my collarbone, “Let’s finish what we started.”

“No,” I stated, finally looking him dead in the eyes. He didn’t believe me. I could tell by the way he smirked as he brought the joint back to his lips, the tip glowing as he pulled. His eyes gleamed with that stupid bemused look.

Watching his face as the smoke snaked past his top lip into his nostrils, I realized there was only one thing I wanted to do. I uncurled my arm quickly and swung the flat of my palm across his face. I smiled at the sound of the smack, and eagerly repeated the motions with my other hand. The scowl was well pronounced across his brow as I started to laugh, lifting my arm again. He caught my hand mid-swing before I could make contact, crushing my fingers in his grip.

“Yeh a child,” he growled, exhaling smoke as he spoke. I whimpered as he pulled me by the hand around the side of the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Biting my lip, I tried to hide my grin as he pushed me flat across his lap. He kept one arm across my shoulder blades, pinning me against his legs. I wriggled against his grip, though not actively trying to free myself. The whiskey had made sure that I was a little more honest about what I wanted, and the thing I wanted the most was to annoy Boomer.

I could feel the cold air meeting my bottom as he moved the smooth pink fabric away from my flesh. The first smack was unexpected, a straight collision between his palm and my skin. I squeaked in surprise as he vibrated with laughter.

He continued without warning, alternating between slapping each cheek as he counted off.

“…four, five,” he finished. I could hear his heavy breathing as I clutched at the bed sheets, burying my face into the worn cotton fabric, trying to stifle the noises I was making.

“Five for the times yeh touched me stuff,” he comments squeezing the tender flesh of my left butt cheek.

I could hear the small voice in my head telling me don’t, but I ignored it as I turned my head to speak over my shoulder, “Really only five for touching your stuff?”

He responded instantly without warning as he brought his hand across my ass a few more times. He kept his forearm along my spine, using his weight to keep me down, moving so his hand rested on my hip. He continued to slap my bottom in the same alternating pattern as he started back at one.

“…three, four,” he let out with a grunt. I clutched at my mouth attempting to stifle my noises in reaction to the the feeling of the tent in his pants as it became well pronounced against my stomach. He continued, “Four for drinkin’ me booze.” He sustained the pattern slowly counting off each time the skin of his palm met my backside before he listed the reasons, “Three for every slap…Two for touching Pinky…and one for fucking botherin’ me in the first place,” he finished with a final smack clear across the bright red skin of my ass.

“You fucking took me,” I finally stated between gasps as I dropped my hand from my mouth, completely slumped over his thick thighs. He lifted his arm from where it rested on me, using it to prop himself up as he leaned back on the bed. His other hand continued to massage my bottom.

“Don’t go thinkin’ I like yeh,” he laughed, “I just needed yeh truck, I don’t give a shit about yeh.”

“Oh really?” I asked in a low voice. Pushing myself upwards, I slid my left leg forward so I straddled his lap, “That’s not what it feels like to me,” I smiled, watching his Adam’s apple bob as I pushed down on him. His fingers gripped tighter at me as I rubbed my center on the tent in his pants.

“Admit it,” I spoke into his ear, holding his shoulders as I pressed myself flush against him, “You’ve wanted to poke me since the beginning.”

I let the robe slip off my shoulders, the pink fabric spilling over his knees, “So are you gunna do something about it, or are you just a big tease?”

“So I’m the tease nah?” He returned with a slight quirk to his eyebrow, “It’s not like I walk around drunk in lingerie all day, lounging in bed touching meself.”

“I was only in my panties cus you took my pants,” I shot back, “And you’re the one always pinning me down and touching my butt,” I crossed my arms with a huff, as I sat back on his thighs, removing all pressure I had on his crotch, “In fact I don’t think I want to play anymore,” I decided, standing up and gathering the robe, “I’m hungry.”

I moved to leave the room, wrapping the silk over my shoulders as his hands reached out and clamped around my arms, pulling me back hard against his chest, “I’ll tell yeh when we’re done playin’,” he snarled into my ear. I craned my neck back to look at him. His eyes were trained on me. His pupils were blown with a hungry light to them as smoke drifted from his nostrils.

I turned slightly as he released my arms, his hands traveling to rest on my hips. Gently, I reached and took the joint from his lips with one hand as I pushed on his chest with the other. Taking a long drag I climbed back onto the bed without breaking eye contact.

“If you want it, fucking take it,” I offered as I exhaled, using his own line on him. He responded not with words, but with a quick movement, discarding his shirt and climbing towards me. I went to pull at the joint again as he made contact.

It was like he was everywhere at once. One hand was pulling at my dress as the other moved my legs apart, making space for his hips. His head was buried in my chest, biting at my nipple through the thin negligee. I tried to hold back a moan, but as he shifted his weight, the erection in his pants pushed the zipper against my center through my underwear. I let out a gasp, choking on the smoke slightly as his hand came to rest around my throat. He lifted himself, hovering just above me, one hand carefully resting on my neck as the other took up where his mouth had left, teasing my breast.

“What do yeh want,” he asked in a deep husky voice, his palm trailing down my stomach over the dress, “Tell me.”

I felt completely vulnerable under him, his hands and body keeping me in place, I couldn’t help but respond, “I want you,” I replied, wiggling my hips against his.

“And what do yeh want me ta do,” he asked, beginning to undo his belt buckle. I knew what he wanted me to say. He wanted me to admit and submit to him.

“I want you to fuck me,” I replied diligently as he smirked, popping open the top button to his jeans.

“Ask nicely,” he continued to press, undoing his fly.

“I want you to fuck me, please,” As he held me flat to the bed, I strained to look. Trying to see the head of his cock poking out from between the flaps of denim. I could feel the gush between my legs at the thought of him.

“Now say my name,” He wore that stupid bemused look as he watched me trying to study him, thinking he’d won as he reached to pull my underwear away.

“Please, I want you,” I began, hiccoughing mid-statement as he began to tease at my lips, “I want you to fuck me, Georgie.”

The expression on his face changed in an instant. His grip around my throat tightened, his fingers pressing into the sides of my neck. My hands flew up to tug at his fist as he forcefully entered me. He waited for nothing as he pumped his hips back and forth in a violent pattern. I clawed at his knuckles, trying to keep down the moans as they left my mouth.

There were spots forming at the edge of my vision and I felt like I was going to lose myself. All I could process was the way his hand gripped me as I gripped him. I could feel the coil inside of me tighten with every thrust as the head of his dick continued to poke that perfect spot inside me. I tried to say something. Telling him how fucking great this felt and to not stop, but only gibberish fell from my mouth as I failed to form a single sentence.

“Oh- FUCK,” I finally called out as I came. My legs jerked trying to clamp shut as I felt my walls spasm around him. His grip on my neck loosened but he made no sign of stopping, continuing to pound full steam ahead. I couldn’t move, my arms felt like lead and my legs like jelly. He took my chin, forcing me to look at him before he leaned forward and bit my bottom lip.

I was no longer sure if I was gasping in pain or pleasure as I lifted my arms around his neck, clawing at his shoulders. I kissed him with equal fervor, nipping at the soft muscle of his tongue as it explored my mouth.

I whined as he pulled back, allowing space for the cold air to wrap around me. I propped myself up with my elbows trying to follow him, to stay close.

“On yeh knees,” he commanded as he moved my legs to the side. I rolled over balancing myself on shaky limbs, feeling completely exposed to him as he sat back on his haunches behind me. Looking over my shoulder I watched as his hands clamped onto my hips as he brought himself forward. He continued at the same bruising pace, giving me no chance to adjust to the sensation.

I kept my eyes clamped shut, relishing in the change in stimuli from the switch in position. From behind he was able to push in deeper, filling me in a way I’d never experienced before. I could feel his grip traveling up my back as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against me. His hands snaked down mine before wrapping around my forearms. Then with a quick jerk he pulled my arms out from underneath, causing me to topple face forward into the bedding as he laughed.

He kept one hand on my shoulder blade, holding me down as the other kept my arms twisted behind my back while his pace picked up. I bit my lip as another orgasm washed over me. I almost collapsed as my legs gave out, but he held my limp form in place as I spasmed from the pangs of joy that radiated through me. I barely noticed as his rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming sporadic before he finally pulled out.

I slumped forward flat onto the bed as he released my hips. Looking back at him, I watched as he rubbed himself, two or three pumps of his length before he came with a loud groan. I felt like I could barely lift my head and made no effort to move as the cum landed on my backside. He leaned forward over me, reaching for the bedside table. I followed his hand with my gaze as he reached for the good Queen Snugglepuss, using her belly to mop up the mess.

“You’re so gross,” I mumbled as he tossed the toy aimlessly to the side.

“Move,” he stated as he slapped my bottom. I winced at the contact with my still raw skin, “Move yeh ass, I wan’ ta lay down,” he reiterated, pushing my body to the side with impatiencs.

“I can’t move,” I groaned back as I tried to pull myself to the side.

He laughed as he flopped down next to me, “You’ll feel better in the morn’,” he teased stretching out so he took up most of the mattress. He was out once his head hit the pillow. I laid there watching his chest rise and fall as I came down from my high.

This had been a first. Not the first time I’d had sex, but before now with my ex it had always been missionary position under the covers with the lights off. This whole weekend had been something new. I’d never thought I could be quite so brazen, especially with a stranger, but something about the way he carried himself made me want to do anything to aggravate him, to get him to look at me.

I sighed as I rolled over, trying to tell myself that it was just because of the flood of serotonin and endorphins in me that I felt like this. Trying to remind myself that was why I felt amazing and wanted nothing more than to continue lying next to him. The last thing I needed was to catch feelings for some drifter criminal I knew nothing about.

Staring at the peeling floral wallpaper I thought of Adelaide and Lenore. I wanted a love like theirs. Though they were divided by the globe, their devotion to each other never wavered. I wondered how their story ended. I wondered if they ever saw each other again.

I sat up slowly, groaning at the pain the movement caused. The jewelry box was still hidden on top of the large mahogany wardrobe, out of my reach. Unless I found a stepping stool. I moved slowly, taking each step gingerly as I grabbed a chair from the kitchen. I felt like an old woman as I struggled to keep my balance while climbing onto the chair. Wrapping my fingers around the box, I pulled it towards me. I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the small act of defiance as I watched his sleeping form.

Once on the bed I fanned out the letters around me. I reached out picking up the discarded joint. It had burnt a small hole through the bed linens before going out. I lit the end as I looked through the letters. They had been shuffled out of order when Boomer had hastily shoved them away but once I had found where I left off, I eagerly began reading.


	7. Goodbye Party

I groaned as I woke up, stretching from the cramped position I fell asleep in. I could hear the paper crinkling underneath me as my fist hit Georgie’s face. I was amazed at his sleeping prowess. I mean, I passed out a few hours after him and here I was stirring as he laid in the exact same position. I hummed as I moved, sitting up and stretching before I noticed his morning wood.

I bit my lip as I studied his nude form. Grinning to myself I shifted, throwing my leg over his lap, I moved forward so his erection pressed against my clit as I rubbed myself against his shaft. I closed my eyes, moaning as I moved, keeping my palms splayed across his chest. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt his hands suddenly grip my thighs, his deep voice growling in response to my movements.

“And wha’ yeh think yer doin’?” he questioned without opening his eyes as his fingers trailed up the back of my legs.

“I thought we were beyond this,” I teased, wiggling my hips, the feeling of him against me sent shivers up my spine.

“Don’t go startin’ somethin’ yeh won’ finish,” he warned as I watched his adam’s apple bob in response to my movements.

“Trust me I’m good at finishing,” I teased as he rolled his form. I fell onto my back as he pinned me against the mattress with his hips, “As long as you answer my questions.”

“What kind of questions,” he pressed, his eyes narrowing as his fingers tightened on my waist.

“Like what are your plans,” I said as I wrapped my legs around him, “Are you just going to blow out of town?”

“Mmm, after I dump yeh in a field,” He agreed, leaning his head forward and kissing at my collarbone. I tried to stifle my giggles as his lips danced across my skin leaving a wet trail behind.

“What if,” I began, laying with my arms around his neck as he bit at my skin. My voice hitched as I tugged at the curls on the back of his neck, “What if I didn’t tell anyone about you, and I stayed here while you’re away.” I knew it was a crazy idea and didn’t expect him to agree. His head shot up, his eyes connecting with me after I spoke.

“Yeh gunna keep your trap shut and take care of me place?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied me, wondering if he should try to call my bluff.

“Yes,” I stated firmly, “I don’t give a shit where you go or what you do, let me live here and I won’t tell anyone anything.”

Boomer studied my face as he hovered above me, trying to read my intentions but I was being honest. He moved his hands to either side of my head before noticing the envelops scattered on the mattress next to us. His head whipped to look over his shoulder at the wardrobe. The kitchen chair that I’d used as a stepping stool was still in place, the wooden jewerly box open on the seat.

“I thought I told yeh to stop touching my stuff,” he growled, looking back at me as he balled the sheets in his fist.

“You did,” I smirked as I laid underneath him, “Like five times.” I was sure that he was going to punch me by the look in his eyes as he stared down at me.

“No use getting mad,” I cooed as I reached up, running my hand across his shoulder and down his arm, “I’ve read all of them,” I couldn’t help but smirk at him, “Even the letter you wrote.”

He quickly pulled away grabbing at the pieces of paper, gathering them. “No way I’m letting yeh stay here,” he grumbled as he put them away, “First thing after I’m dressed, I'ma tie yeh up and leave yeh helpless in a lot ‘round here.”

“Really?” I began as I moved so I sat on my knees, “You do that and I’ll just go to the cops and say you beat and raped me,” I stated smirking as he looked back at me, “I’ve got more than enough bruises and injuries, and you didn’t use a condom last night. Just imagine the public outcry once I tell all the newspapers about my harrowing ordeal and how I just barely escaped. Every cop in the tri-state area will be looking for you.”

I watched him, smiling as he thought over my threat, “When yeh get so bold?” He asked as he slowly turned to face me.

“After the twelfth time you slapped my ass last night.” I sat in silence as I watched him put the letters and box away.

“I thought it was sweet,” I finally said, breaking the cold quiet in the air.

“What?” He grunted not even looking towards me.

“Well, that you took the time to write Lenore about Adelaide’s passing. Also that you came all the way to America to meet her,” I explained as I moved to stand, taking a limping half step towards him.

He was still for a long moment before he sighed, “She was me mum an’ I was a man before I ever met her,” he stated as his shoulders slumped. I was completely awestruck by this moment of honesty and found myself completely unable to answer.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” I murmured as I slid under his arm, wrapping myself around his abdomen, “We can hate-fuck again,” I smiled as he quirked his eyebrow, looking at me from the corner of his eye, “I mean, if you want to.”

Boomer almost growled as he pivoted and looped his arms around my legs, tossing my body onto the mattress. I squeaked as I hit the bedding, watching as he moved above me. He grabbed at my ankles, jerking my legs apart as he leaned forward, sinking his teeth into the skin over my hip bone.

“Ow! Fuck!” I called as he gnawed on the skin. My hand jumped to his scalp, tugging as I laced my fingers through the curls on his crown.

“I thought we were hate-fucking,” he mumbled as he trailed his lips up my stomach, occasionally nipping at my skin.

“But I’m already so sore,” I whined as he trailed further up, kissing at my sternum.

“I don’t do soft and easy, luv,” I didn’t have to look to hear his smug expression on his voice. I gave in without speaking, letting him manipulate my body, pulling me into the position he wanted. Once He began his rapid thrusts, I reached up, biting and scratching his shoulders.

By the time he was done I was ready pass out again. I curled into the warmth of the sheets, barely paying attention to the weight shift in the mattress as Boomer stood up and left the room. I had a restless slumber, plagued by dreams about driving a car through the hallways of my old high school. I woke with a start, blinking as I tried remember where I was.

“Georgie?” I mumbled as I yawned, moving to the edge of the bed. I forgot about my injured toe for a split second as I stood up. I winced, catching myself as I stumbled. Limping into the living room I spotted Boomer on the couch, illuminated by the television.

“Hey what’s up?” I asked, trailing my hand across the back of the couch as I yawned again. He merely grunted in response, taking a sip of the almost empty whiskey bottle in his hands. I sat down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder, looking towards the rugby game on the screen.

After a length of sitting in silence Boomer finally spoke, “In the letters,” he started before pausing, “Did it say why Lenore left?”

“No not really,” I replied shaking my head, “It’s obvious she didn’t want to leave but it was never said why.”

“It was a small town,” He began as I turned to look at him, “It got around she was gay after she was arrested at a bar in the city. She was chased out of town and hopped on the next boat to America,” for the second time tonight I found myself at a loss for words because of his honesty. He kept his eyes forward on the television as he took another big gulp from the bottle he held. I said nothing as I reached for the bottle, pulling it from his fingers and taking a drink.

The bottle clinked as I set it on the glass of the coffee table before climbing into his lap. It was hard to explain why but all I wanted to do was kiss him. Maybe it was because he had genuinely opened up to me, or maybe my idea of him had been soften after reading his mothers’ letters, but either way there was no turning back now.

I leaned in, gently placing my lips on his as I dug my fingers in to the hair on his cheeks. I moaned, grinding my hips into his. It felt like a shock radiated through my body as I felt him through his underwear. I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling myself closer as he squeezed at my bottom. I hissed as he gripped my tender flesh. He took the opportunity to dart his tongue into my mouth.

I hummed as I rotated my hips against him while wrestling with his tongue. Though I wouldn’t call it 'tender’, he was being much more gentle than he’d ever been before before. He let the callouses on his fingers tickle the skin on my legs rather than holding me in place with his bruising grip. The feeling of his skin on mine was mesmerizing.

“If I leave yeh here,” he began, moving to kiss along my jaw, “Yeh won’t squeal?” he asked as he ran one hand up along my spine, pulling me closer to him as he kissed my sternum.

“I won’t tell a soul,” I confirmed as he took one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Promise,” he asked against my skin as I moaned, digging my teeth into my into my lip as he pulled at my breast.

“I-I promise,” I whined pushing my hips down in response. In a simple, fluid motion Boomer stood up holding me in place against him before moving to the bedroom. I gripped at his shoulders as he let me slump backwards of the mattress, hovering over me for the second time today.

“I wanna be on top,” I stated suddenly, pushing against him. With a deep chuckle he rolled over and letting me take my place above him. I sat on his hips as I had this early morning, rubbing myself along his shaft as it laid against his abdomen. He moved his hands to grab at my legs but I quickly wrapped my fingers around his wrists.

“Uh-uh!” I teased, watching his face turn sour, but he still allowed me to move his hands so his arms were flat against the bedding. I slid his hand under my knees, leaning forward to hold his hands in place. I could feel as he tested, tugging his arms back slightly but I just leaned further into his hands until he winced. A joy inside of me swelled at the thought of him being subject to me for a change as I reached between my legs to grab his dick.

“You like that?” I taunted as I moved the head against myself, watched as he swallowed and nodded. I couldn’t help but give a toothy grin as I leaned forward into his hands, balancing myself with one palm flat on his chest. I pushed back, biting my lip as I sank against him. I rested on his hips as I adjusted, getting use to shape and sensation of him inside of me. I didn’t care whether he was enjoying this or not, all I cared about was the tight feeling in my gut caused by the way his dick moved inside me. I started to shift but I don’t get far before I had to rest again.

I finally looked up, seeing his pained expression. I leaned forward, pressing my knees into his palms as I took a sharp bite at the skin on his collar bone. He groaned in response as I dug my nails into the fur on his chest before I sat up, rolling myself against his hips. I could see that my slow pace was causing him discomfort and decided to give in, leveraging myself against his chest as I began to quickly lift and drop myself against him.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled as I picked a rhythm, bouncing on top of him. Throwing my head back, I reached up to pull at my own breast. I could feel the vibrations of his groans through his chest as he watched me playing with my nipple. With a final forceful yank he was able to free his hands.

Boomer moved quickly pushing himself up with one hand as he latched on top my open breast with the other, squeezing as he took my nipple between his teeth. My head lolled to the side, losing myself to the sharp sensations of his grip. I braced myself with one hand against his thigh as I tried to continue my movements. He allowed his free hand to travel down my stomach, using his fingers to tease my clit. His attention caused my pattern to falter until I stopped, moaning into his shoulder as I wrapped my arms around him. He continued to jerk his hips up words into me, using the rock of his body to push his fingers against my clit.

I could feel it coming as I bit his shoulder. I let go, feeling my body shake in response to his care. I felt like jello as I clutched at his shoulders coming harder than I ever had before.

In retrospect I think that there was something Georgie was hiding from me. It was just odd that he’d let me take control so easily, but at the time I never questioned a thing. Now I can see why he acted as such that evening. We continued to wrestle for the rest of the night until we both eventually passed out. I had to almost beg him to stop, citing exhaustion. As we parted, shifting to rest against the pillows, he pulled me in close and tight, wrapping his arms around my middle. I couldn’t help but hum as he buried his nose into the crook of my neck. I reached back running my nails through the hair on the back of his head as we fell asleep curled together.

At first I expected to wake up next to him, but I wasn’t that surprised to find myself alone, so I rolled over and went back to sleep. Eventually I was forced awake by a beam of sunlight that shone through the blinds directly onto my face. I groaned as I sat up, looking around with bleary eyes for Georgie. I shrugged to myself and moved to the couch turning on the TV after a moment. A few hours of rugby later I started to feel unnerved that I was still alone.

I stood, looking around the room when I noticed something on the front door. I walked up to find a set of keys and a piece of paper tacked to the hardwood.

On the paper was scrawled a the simple message, 'All Yours.’


End file.
